I, for one, am glad you have decided not to ever be Hungarian again. Your contribution to the goal of ending ALL world Hungarians is appreciated. DId you know that Shakespeare felt the same way? He said that Cassius had a lean and Hungarian look.

Of course, the worst part is child Hungarians. Allowing a child to go Hungarian in the world is really sinful because he carries the mark of that experience through his whole life, you know.

I wrote a great post last night. It incorporated everything Mother is about, it defined the human condition and ways to better it, it presented positive proof that Chongo Chimp and Shame McBride are locked away kissin' and smoochin' in a secret love nest, it presented a clear path to world peace now and in the future, it gave a clear and succinct definitive definition of "folk music".

It wouldn't post and wouldn't post. So I rebooted the router and then it was gone....

I lay awake all night, singing sad silent songs and my soul keening in woeful lamentation that it was now gone forever to that Great Bit Bucket In The Sky, that without my guidance humanity would continue on its present primrose path to perdition.

But as one of my old girl friends used to say, "Tomorrow is another day, I hope, and I vow that I'll never be Hungarian again."

guhnu, I feel for you. It is hard to give up what one dearly loves but be glad for the memories. The other day I realized one reason that our memories are so precious; noone else in the world has the same ones. I cherish mine, even though a good many of them make my spine cringe and curdle. But again- they are precious.

Ok, it is settled, booked and on record. We are off to merry Dublin in August--oi!--and on from there to Athlone to take over a charming wee river barge and kanoodle our way up the Shannon to the Erne waterway and back again. Six days of rivers and pubs ought to be enough to float any boat.

Ah, me zonn, listen to an old bore. Never you mind your auld petunias, but go forth spruced and waxed and find yourself a true Petunia, or Dinaa, or even a little Sadie who needs your friendship, and befriend her.

Bank draft in hand! Plus, I got $20 cash for my camo coveralls. $19,020.00 today. I am a happy camper. Not that that means a whit to anyone but me. Hmmm... why do I post my personal shit on the internUt? Oh dear... I am a lonely old man. Well, that shit has gotta stop! I shall spend time with my petunias! And bore the shit out of youse with that instead. Petunias ain't personal. Just as fucking boring but not personal.

I shall miss my truck, especially when the snowbanks are over 6', but I shall enjoy the $19k in the bank and the not having to spend $4k a year for depreciation, insurance and the maintenance that comes after the 5 years are up (that's serious beer money!)... and the fucking grief of having to clear ice and snow off of it to move it to the street when the snow removal guy gets here and shoveling out the box and...

After I shook hands with the guy, I went into Mum's house to get the third key and told her the truck was sold. She started crying. She knows for sure now that I can never get back to the woods I spent every minute in that I could until the arthritis took hold. I explained again why I had to sell it and, as is her way, she came around... she's a grand lady, she is. Had to be. She raised the likes of me.

Naked. Some folks got naked here last winter and run around outdoors. We used them to hold the street lanterns until the warm weather arrived and they started to droop a tad but not too much, so we froze 'em up again and will reuse them next winter. Most folks who get naked and run around outdoors in the winter can be reused for three or four winters iffen we're careful and don't use 'em up too fast.

Here in Southern California, the heat is making people crazy and driving them to go naked.

Back in winter, as I recall, it was a bit chillier, you know, and some folks wore sweaters, but the cold weatherand the rains and fog also, strangely enough, drove some people crazy and made them go naked.

Things got better in the Spring, though--it became pleasant and balmy, light warm breezes blessed the land and made green things spring forth and bright blooms of flowering plant celebrated the season of renewal. Pulses began to stir and people went a little crazy and went naked.

In contrast to yesterday's 100°F swelter, today's weather is cloudy with intermittent light rain and only 73°F. What a difference a day makes. The down side is that cooler temperatures make it much more difficult to make up lies about how hot it is, and it's not raining enough to make up lies about flooding. But it'll probably rain enough to provide for a healthy mosquito hatch in a few days, and mosquitoes are always good for a lie or two.

The cab that was to take us to the house yesterday was late (it overheated) so I was able to adjust to the heat a bit. I saw a fire hydrant chasing a dog and the guy who runs the barbecue joint across the street (lousy barbecue, by the way) was carrying the ribs outside for a few minutes to cook in the sunshine. The air conditioning at the courthouse apparently had a literal meltdown and the bailiffs were keeping things cool by using subpoenas as fans in the courtrooms. There is a police order against heated arguments,too.

Yesterday's Juneau skies were hazy but with no apparent cause. We don't have industry nor do we have farms. Tonight for the first time I smell the aftermath of the wildfires raging in British Columbia or maybe also in the Yukon Territory. 'Tain't nice- it's acrid with tones of char.

The first box arrived last week; there is another awaiting pickup or redelivery. Pat doesn't sell her quilts; they are held in a Sacred Place Of Trust to await Their Call, except for Project Linus and Quilts of Valor. I sold some of the family plate to finance this trip and now we are eating off of paper towels. It was, however, well worth it.

One place we did visit was Dangle, County Concealedcarry, the ancestral home (if such a term can be so applied) of the notorious McBrides of Blind River. While nearly all of the place is a ruin, as you can see some of Shame's family still lives there.

I am in the US of A. Indiana, to be precise. Tomorrow I will be home in God's Country. I saw sheep, horses, cows, stone walls, and lots of green. I also spent enough for Ireland to graciously pay off Greece's debt and still continue for twenty more years. The bills are starting to come in. Pray for me.

Did you know that deltas can be far inland and still be deltas? There is land in the northeastern portion of Louisiana that is actually considered to be part of the Mississippi River delta. It isn't downstream by the mouth. Same with the Nile. It's way upstream that is considered "delta," distinct from Mouth. You may be confusing rivers with other deltas and mouths that are sometimes much closer together . . .

ANything to be right, I suppose, Sir R. Follow the Shannon down past Limerick to where the shores of Ballybunion gaze across the water at Kilbaha, and the Shannon empties herself into the sea. It's a mouth, if not precisely a delta. More a capital "D" than an ∂, if you see what I mean.

10PM. 10C. Pissin down rain. I am LOVIN it! I shall sleep soundly... until 4AM when the fuckin big garbage trucks that remove garbage from the back of the strip small next to the dead end street I live on break the noise bylaws. Pepsi Landry? Nah, he won't do nuthin unless I name the companies in a formal complaint... date, time, company, proof... such are City Counsellors here in Moncton. Apparently, they are scared of the Mafia.

The Shannon flows easy down through the center of Ireland, an unbroken path of kindly waters (mostly) from Belleek in the north all the way to Killaloe in the south and on to the delta. This summer I am going to explore some part of it for a week, stopping in at villages and pubs and rising with the sun (if I can) to follow the river's path.

This is an easy slow-moving sort of vacation but I think it will be just grand.

Awright, lasses, laddies and otherwise of MOAB, what the fecking 'ell is on then with this? Just tell me how it might come to be that so many fine ande vital minds should be dumfounded at one fell swoop by a tawdry half-baked chain of coincidences and minor malevolence? I ask you! Wherefore the silence? Howfor the negligence of our glorious chambers of gilded bullpucky in the sacred mansion of Mom?

Found an old kitchen session tape whilst cleaning. Wonderful! I would make an audio to post on Vimeo but there are some very raunchy parts, as we were want to do back in the day. Chris and I did a delightful duet of whistle and Hran and his rendition of And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda ended the session (for me, that is... next to last, of course as there is only one song that ends a kitchen session properly) with me cryin. Better than Bogle or anyone else. Sigh. I miss the old days. Chris is now a big ass jet pilot for a major airline. Last I heard from him were pics of him at a big and fancy hotel in the UAE. Them Arabs know how to party!